Protesting Love
By jackpot421
Found him in a whisper. Innately driven into naked trees, Brush strokes thick of even black On the night’s forest floor, twisting ashen carpet Startling the dust, hovering Over his sinking chest, choking breath. Caught in a predator’s ring. Love is the twine scratching of pulling strings. Love is the draw of a bow. Reflective in his burning monk’s eyes Remaining still facing grace as he waits For her blue fingers to burn the corners Of his white flag of surrender. Overcome in silken tidal waves of flame. She Confronts the horizon with circles of sun And reduces darkness to bottomless clarity. Sparking like a nova in the end Fading out stale light to start again In this new life.this is a working title i guess. does this poem have a clear meaning? Written July 1st, 2000 © on Oct 04 2001 09:06 PM PST 0 • 8
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"Found him in a whisper...."